


Technicolor

by heyitsafrog



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Silly Boys, Tattoos, drunken mishaps, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsafrog/pseuds/heyitsafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas woke with a start to a pounding headache, and an overwhelming urge to vomit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello my friends, this is my first Newtmas mullllltichapter fic and i am very worried. I hope it isnt too bad. Please give your comments and criticisms, that would be greatly appreciated.

Thomas woke with a start to a pounding headache, and an overwhelming urge to vomit.

 

He sat up fast, ignoring his head spin and hobbled as fast as he could to the bathroom, a burning pain on his left upper thigh reign preventing him from going any faster. Unfortunately, this inconvenience caused him to not reach the toilet in time and instead unload a rainbow cocktail of liquids all over the bathroom tiles.

 

Thomas groaned, collapsing onto his hands and knees and then onto his side, head narrowly avoiding the swirl of stomach fluids and technicolor drinks. How much did he drink last night? What did he drink? What did he even do? He forgot to worry about what day it was, who was coming over and the fact that he was stark naked, curled into a ball pathetically on the bathroom floor, because the only thing that mattered, right now, was sleep…

 

* * *

 

 

“Thomas what the actual fuck?! Oh god, that smells so bad!” His cousin Teresa’s shrill voice woke him again, this time to a headache no worse than the first, although the nausea was gone, which was a relief. If only his arse would stop hurting so much.

 

“Wha-d’youwant” He mumbled in response, keeping his eyes closed to block out the light.

 

“Tom, you are passed out in a pool of what appears to be a pool of your own stinking vomit on your bathroom floor at 11am on a Saturday morning! This Saturday morning! Have you forgotten what day it is?!” She cried in despair. 

 

“Hmm…” Thomas began to drift back off to sleep, whatever it was, he’s sure it could wait.

 

“It’s your mother's wedding you useless pile of clunk!” She shrieked, grabbing her head in her hands.

 

Thomas shot up from his spot on the floor, ignoring the slowly fading pain that was giving way to the intense dread and anticipation that he had felt towards this day for as long as his mom had been with that slimy shank. Suddenly he realised why he had drunk so much last night, remembered what day it was, and why he felt so damn awful.

 

“Teresa, I’m going to be—“ His rough voice was cut off by adding to the puddle of sick on the floor.

 

Teresa hit her head against the wall in anguish. “Mm, yes Tom. Lovely. I’ll be in the kitchen when you don’t look like someone hit you with a car and dragged you  for a few miles. And please put on some damn pants!” She left with a flourish, leaving Thomas to wallow in his own self pity for a few more minutes, before standing up and wondering what the hell he did to deserve all of this. Slowly, he stepped into the shower, and began the long process of cleaning himself up for the wedding of hell, the end of his life as he knew it.

 

* * *

 

 

After a long shower of dread and panic, Thomas stepped out, narrowly avoiding the swirl of rainbow drinks and bile that served as harsh reminders to what was coming next. Quickly, he used a guest towel to mop up the sick which he then put in the bin, brushed his teeth and walked back to his room, before riffling through his draws to find a pair of clean underwear to put on and satisfy Teresa’s inane request of pants wearing. He pulled them on, wincing a little but otherwise not worrying about the sore spot on his behind.

 

Leaving his room, he walked slowly down the hall to the kitchen, and towards the heavenly smell of bacon and eggs. Teresa was sitting at the counter, finishing off what was on her plate.

 

“Any for me?” He asked, voice sore and scratchy.

 

“No.” She said with nonchalance and finality, walking around Thomas to reach the dishwasher, placing her plate in there and going back to sit down as Thomas stood there with his mouth agape. “Tom, love. You need to face that this is happening! I know how much you hate him, everyone knows how much you do, but he makes your mom happy, isn’t that what really matters?”

 

Hate was an understatement. Janson was a monster. He insisted that everyone address him as his work title, ‘Assistant Director’, because he was a pretentious shank, so proud of his work, obsessed with it. He was only an assistant to a role of a government company, Thomas thought. Nothing special. Thomas and his friends named him after his appearance, Rat Man. Thomas had, in the midst of a conversation with his mom, dropped that in. She hadn’t spoken to him for at least a month after that. She was completely enamoured with him, and that was, at least part of the reason, that he despised him.

 

Rat man and his mother had been together for almost 5 years now, one year after his father had died. Perhaps that was why Thomas hated him so much- how quickly he helped his mother to recover from her grief, while he had to live on with the pain for a little while longer, until someone would come to rescue him too.

 

“Yeah, Teresa. That’s what matters.” 

 

“Good. Now eat your bacon, you have a big day ahead of you.” She pulled a plate out of the microwave and set it in front of Thomas, smiling, before walking to the couch and turning the television on. Just as she was about to turn the television on, she turned around, seeing something just out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Tom, is that a tattoo?!”

 

Thomas turned around quickly. “What? Where?!” He began to panic.

 

“On your back, left, lower back, coming out of your pants.”

 

Thomas twisted around to attempt to see. What appeared to be a tattoo of several looped letters was protruding from the waistband of his pants. Thomas let out a shriek, and ran back off to his room, Teresa following him. He stopped in front of his full-length mirror and dropped his pants.

 

“Tom! Gross!” Teresa shouted, however didn’t take her eyes away from Thomas’s arse, where four black inked letters were seared into his skin.

 

Thomas took one look and memories from the night before came flooding back. Oh god. The club. The drinks. _Newt._ Oh god.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me a billion years to publish, I hope you all like the second installment. Thankyou for the lovely encouragement on the first chapter.

Teresa sat him down on his bed, noticing his minor meltdown. “Tom, look at me. Let’s start from the beginning, okay? What happened last night?”

 

* * *

 

Thomas opened his front door.

 

“Thomas!!” Minho tackled him onto a nearby couch. “You ready to get pissed?!” He cried enthusiastically.

 

“Oh fuck yes.” Thomas solemnly replied.

 

They caught a taxi to a nearby club, determined to help Thomas forget about the rest of his family life.

 

"Hope you don’t mind bro, I invited a few pals to help with your epic smashing.” Minho said with a smile.

 

“Of course not, the more the merrier, hey?” Thomas laughed with unease. He was always awkward in close contact social situations, and with his anxiety and panicked emotions at an all time high tonight, something was bound to go wrong.

 

As they exited the cab, an obnoxious yell came from across the street.

 

“Minho! Thomas! Guys! What is up?!”

 

‘Ugh,’ Thomas thought. ‘Gally’.

 

He gave a half-hearted wave to the boy and turned his back, steeling himself to enter the club and try to forget.

 

Minho waved a hand in front of him. “Thomas. Tom. Are you ready?” He said with a grin.

 

“Sure. Yes. Lets do this.” Thomas said. And that was his first mistake.

 

* * *

 

"It’s such a blur, Teresa!” Thomas flung himself backwards, landing on top of his sore tattoo and wincing. “Why, why him? Why me?!”

 

* * *

 

As they walked into the club Thomas was overwhelmed by the powerful smell of sweat and sex. He followed Minho and Gally who seemed to have spotted the rest of their friends to a couch in a corner. 

 

“Thomas, baby!” Brenda had yelled loudly in his ear, draping herself over him in a desperate attempt to get his attention, as she did every time she was drunk. Thomas had gently pushed her off of him and onto a nearby couch, where the rest of their group was lounging, drinking, and chatting amongst themselves. 

 

“Thomas!!” Brenda yelled again from down on the couch. “This here, is my cousin Newt! Isn’t he just adorable?!” She giggled and took another sip from her drink.

 

An unfamiliar British voice came from a man sitting next to her. “Hi, Thomas, right? Bloody hell Brenda, you told me he was hot, but he is actually the most gorgeous person I’ve ever had the gift of seeing."

 

Thomas blushed deeply and turned to look at the source of the compliment. Oh. _Oh..._

 

Newt was the most attractive being Thomas had ever seen in his life. Thomas sighed. This was going to be a long night. He felt a drink being shoved into his hand and he took a large gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste.

 

* * *

 

"Yes I know all of that Tom, I was there too, I did see you making heart eyes at Brit-boy.” Teresa explained as if she was talking to a child.

 

“Pff, you might have well not have been, with the way you were wrapped up it Minho the entire night. Just shut up T, and let me tell my story.” He laughed.

 

* * *

 

Next thing he knew they were dancing. Thomas was slowly inching further away from the ever persistent Brenda, and therefore closer to Newt. Soon they were dancing side by side, hips moving to the thumping bass and rhythm of the music. Thomas was close enough to be able to get a better look at the British boy’s face. And god was he gorgeous.

 

Newt looked Thomas directly in the eye and grabbed his hips, pulling him in close, so their bodies were touching. He raised an eyebrow as if to challenge Thomas to go one step further. Thomas was inebriated, and completely lacked any inhibition. He smirked at Newt and quickly turned around, his arse grinding against Newt’s seemingly growing erection. They danced for awhile, Newt’s hot and heavy breath on the back of Thomas’s neck, whispering words of lust and want, before Newt turned Thomas around again and leant forward to whisper.

 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

 

Thomas swallowed before replying. “Fuck yes.”

 

—

* * *

 

 

“Oh, Tom, honey, I love you, but I do not need to hear about your back-alley blowjobs. Please, just tell me how you got so pissed as to get a tattoo of his damn name on your butt!”

 

“Ugh, T, you ruin all my fun.” Thomas said, smiling. "Well, after that… It was a bit of a blur."

 

* * *

 

Thomas pulled his pants up, leaning back against the alley wall and gasping for air. He pulled Newt up and off of his knees and kissed the life out of him. He turned them around and slammed Newt’s small body up against the wall, running his hands up and down the other boy’s sides. He unzipped Newt’s pants and brought him off in a matter of seconds. Wiping his own now-messy hand on his own jeans, he zipped Newt back up again and grabbed his hand, dragging him back inside and straight to the bar. 

 

They spent over an hour drinking and getting to know one another, Thomas spilling his whole life story to Newt over shots and thumping music. After a long while, they were both absolutely smashed. They stumbled out of the club, arm in arm, and attempted to make their way to a nearby park. Of course, being as thoroughly intoxicated as they were, they got spectacularly lost.

 

* * *

 

“I remember Newt spotting a tattoo parlour that was still open at that time of night, the neon sign being so bright that it hurt my eyes and lit up almost the whole road. I remember saying something extremely stupid and suggesting we get each other’s names tattooed on us, but after that all I remember is pain.” Thomas continued. “What if, T… What if he has my name on his arse too?!” Thomas grinned, imagining the blonde boy with his own name permanently etched onto his perfect butt as a reminder.

 

“Thomas, that doesn’t matter. What matters is are you going to see him again?”

 

Thomas stopped his smiling.

 

“Oh shit, I don’t know if I got his number!”

 

Thomas jumped up from his spot on the bed, ignoring the small twinge of pain in his head as he did so. He ran to his drawers and picked up his phone, turning it on.

 

He scrolled down his contact list, stopping when he got to ’N’. 

 

“No. Nothing, T. What am I going to do? I want to see him again, I want him… I want him to be a part of my life!” He almost shouted.

 

Teresa shook her head. “Idiot. You said he is Brenda’s cousin, yeah? Well why don’t you just talk to Brenda?”

 

“Because, Teresa, I don’t want the entire world to know that I hooked up with Brenda’s cousin last night!

 

Just then, the door of the apartment opened, and Minho walked in. 

 

“Who hooked up with Brenda’s cousin?” His voice echoed down the hall. Thomas groaned and again flung himself backward, burying his head in his pillow. 

 

“T, for fuck’s sake, you explain. I’m going to sleep. And please only wake me up at the absolute latest time I am able to be woken today."

 

He faintly heard Minho’s cry of "holy shit is that a tattoo?!" before slowly closing his eyes and drifting back off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it. Just to let you all know, a somewhat anticipated prequel for my oneshot 'Safety' is in the works, and basically I am just shamelessly self-advertising right now. Sorry. But anyway, please give me your comments on this chapter! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it isnt too bad, im not very happy with it but w/e... Comments and criticisms are appreciated so much thankyou :) (and also i will try to update as quickly as possible!)


End file.
